As he combed through the mare's silky mane, Gon's absent-minded motion grew too rough, and when he yanked the comb through an almost imperceptible knot, the horse snorted, stamping a forefoot on the floor of the stable. Quickly, Gon calmed her with a handful of oats and soft whispers of reassurance, but the aching doubt in Gon's chest refused to settle.
He had tried to be quiet—slipping past the posted guards, easing the stable doors open at the exact speed to avoid the creaking of hinges—but he feared that the racing of his heart, the heavy beating which throbbed in his ears, might give him away.
He had not anticipated this.
With the horse at ease, Gon sat on a bale of hay and clasped his hands together before his nose, staring at the knuckles until they blurred and doubled. Exhaling, he flung himself backward, draping an arm over his eyes.
He hadn't been waiting for long, but with each passing second, Gon's fear grew. What if the young king had been caught? He would have no way of signalling Gon. What would happen if a guard were to find Gon in the stables, with a horse saddled with survival gear?
What if Killua had set him up?
Gon shook the thought from his mind as violently as it had appeared. Killua would never. They hadn't known each other for long, but Gon knew himself to be a good judge of character. The young man that Gon had come to love would never abandon him.
Love?
The stable door creaked open before halting, and Gon sat up, dismissing the blush and foreign thought at once. Fearful, he debated vaulting into the upper level of the stables, where spiders gathered and ants made their home, but found his limbs locked.
"Gon?" The whisper stung, the voice a relief and an unreasonable agony. "Are you in here?"
"I'm here," Gon said, creeping forward. "What took you so long?"
Rather than risk making a louder noise, Killua squeezed through the gap left between the door and the frame, brushing off a few splinters when he entered. When he faced Gon, he was smiling.
"I wanted to grab some things for you, too," Killua said, tossing a small satchel to Gon, who caught it easily and peered inside. "A few changes of clothes." His eyes flickered down to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone had softened. "I wasn't sure what would fit you. I just grabbed some of my old training gear. I hope it's acceptable."
Gon held the bag to his chest, cursing himself for ever having any doubts, for letting a perverted jester of all people into his mind. "Thank you," he said, the simple words warm and sweet. When he looked at Killua—how the fabric of his tunic still rose and fell in rhythm with his labored breathing, how his lips were dry and slightly parted, the sheen of sweat beneath his bangs—Gon turned toward the horse to hide his frown. "We should go," Gon said.
Killua remained by the door, eying the horse's muscular build. He swallowed. "Gon, I have to confess something," he said.
Though in the process of checking the straps and reins, Gon paused, hands hovering above the leather. "What is it?" he asked, leveling his voice.
"I lied."
"About what?"
Averting his eyes, Killua tried to manage his breathing. Gon turned to him, his face a mask of neutrality. Finally, Killua spoke. "I lied about never learning how to ride a horse."
Gon frowned, knitting his brows together until the action caused his head to hurt. "Why would you lie about that?"
Killua ran a free hand through his hair, clutching at the roots, as if to distract from the pink hue of his cheeks. "I'm not very good with animals," he muttered. "I tried to learn when I was younger—father tried to teach me—but the horse… It reared and I fell off. Something startled it, and it panicked. Broke my leg in that incident." He laughed at the memory, then winced. "I tried to learn again, much later, but I… I couldn't do it."
Surprising himself, Gon laughed, stifling it against the mare's side. Upon hearing the sound, Killua looked toward Gon, his expression hurt. Waving it off, Gon controlled himself, cleared his throat, and nodded. "I'll teach you," Gon said. "She's gentle and brave. She won't hurt you. I'll be with you the whole time."
"But—"
"You'll be fine," Gon insisted, crossing the distance between them. "She's a big, powerful lady, but she's got a good heart." Taking Killua's hand, Gon tugged him forward, guiding him. Though Killua hesitated, he didn't resist, and Gon led him to the mare's side. When Killus didn't move, Gon took the initiative and brought Killua's hand up to her flank.
Killua's face was pale, but he allowed the motion. After a few strokes, he let out a quiet laugh, and continued the action himself, marvelling at the coarseness of the hairs, the warmth beneath the coat.
The mare shook her head, rattling the reins. Killua flinched, but Gon's hand on his back, pressed just firmly enough to register, held him in place.
"What's her name?" Killua asked. Gon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. In the dimness of the stables, moonlight dripping in from the window, Killua was looking at Gon. The fear had fled from his face, and all that remained was curiosity, bright and eager.
Gon reached for the mare's nose and patted her shoulder before hoisting himself up. Shifting forward to allow room behind him, Gon extended a hand down to Killua and grinned. "Her name's Bubbles."
"That's a stupid name."
"Just get on the horse."
It was a mystery even to them how they fled the grounds without alerting anyone.
"My father had the halls cleared of servants when we spoke," Killua said, glancing back at the fading torchlight. When he faced forward again, he resisted the impulse to lean into Gon—for security. "Perhaps they were all sent home early. The guards' numbers have been dwindling, as well. Too many rumors. Father's growing suspicious."
Gon nodded, watching the cobbled road blend into soil and guiding the horse to dodge branches and brambles. While he wanted to respond, his mind was preoccupied with racing thoughts—avoiding injury, navigating in the darkness, listening for pursuers, the treacherous act of stealing the heir, Killua's hands snug on Gon's hips—
Killua's warm hands.
Gon jerked on the reins too roughly as they neared the deeper parts of the forest, and the mare huffed, slowing. From the force of the motion, Killua's chest pressed against Gon's back, a wall of heat engulfing him.
"How far are we going tonight?" Killua whispered, the breathy words nestled against Gon's ear.
"Not much farther," Gon managed. "We'll stop to eat and sleep."
"Sleep out here?"
Gon cast a slanted look over his shoulder. "My lord, the wilderness is more accommodating than you might imagine," he said. When Killua didn't respond, Gon lowered his voice. "We have to be careful if we don't want to be found."
Though a look of disgust wrinkled Killua's face, he sighed. "I suppose you're right. I trust you know these woods?"
"Well enough."
"Are there any dangers we should be aware of?"
Gon lifted his chin, searching the sky for answers. "No, I don't think so," he said after a moment of thought.
"Oh, good."
"Wait," Gon said, lifting a hand from the reins to catch Killua's attention. "Forgot about the wolves."
"Wolves?"
"They shouldn't bother us, though," Gon said dismissively. "We wouldn't be very tasty. Well, I wouldn't anyway. I'm just a servant. I'd taste like… like suds and soil."
Gon went silent when Killua's hands pressed harder against his sides, trembling. He stared ahead into the darkness, swallowing the desire to stop the horse immediately, apologize, and comfort the poor, spoiled royal.
"Sorry," Gon said finally, the word soft as it sat in the air between them. "We'll stay together, and everything will be fine. I promise."
They rode onward, carving new paths through the underbrush, the snap of brittle wood marking their trail. Above, the tree cover grew denser; though autumn was well underway, many branches maintained their foliage, making it difficult to navigate by way of the stars.
Silence had engulfed them, and Killua had slumped forward some time ago, his forehead resting against Gon's back. Gon tried not to tense his body, but stress stealthily clawed its way up his spine to cling on his shoulders, weighing him down as if to drag him to the earth.
When they came upon a clearing, Gon pulled back on the reins, easing the mare to a stop. Groggily, Killua lifted his head, yawning, and laced his fingers together against Gon's stomach, settling once more against Gon's back.
Gon held his breath for a moment, thighs pressing hard against the saddle, before sighing in defeat. "Come on, Killua; time to set up camp."
"Is it morning already?"
"No, I'd say it's... Well, it's hard to tell," Gon said, squinting up at the sky. "I'm not the best at stargazing. I was trying to follow the moon, but..."
Killua blinked his eyes open and looked up. A smile hinted at his lips before expanding. "They're beautiful," he said. "And I think you're right. Should be around midnight, based on the moon's position. Look! There's Polaris." Killua gazed heavenward, and Gon watched him, saw the glow of distant stars spark something in his eyes. Even when Killua frowned, the light didn't dim. "We haven't come very far," he said. "It looks like we've barely covered any distance."
"We've come far enough," Gon said, dismounting in a single fluid motion. His legs tingled, readjusting to solid, unmoving ground. "Why didn't you tell me you were a navigator?"
"It seemed like you had everything under control," Killua said, shrugging. He struggled to lift his leg over the saddle, grasping for the reins to steady himself. Gon offered a hand, failing to hide his smirk, and helped Killua down, supporting him when he wobbled.
With Killua leaning against his shoulder, Gon cocked his head and laughed. "So you can't ride a horse but you can read the stars," he said. "What a king you are."
"Yeah," Killua said, smiling in spite of himself. "What a king."
"Come on," Gon said, standing Killua up straight and dusting imaginary dirt off his shoulders. As he moved further into the clearing, observing the area, he said, "Let's set up camp."
Killua rubbed his hands together, exhaling on his fingers. "Can we start a fire first? I'll die of hypothermia before morning."
"No. No fire." The sharpness of Gon's voice caught Killua off-guard, and he noticed the stiffness of his back, the tautness of his shoulders. Before Killua could ask, Gon said, "We don't want to draw any animals. I packed blankets from the stables; they should be enough. If the cold becomes unbearable, we'll figure something out, okay?" At this, Gon turned back around, his usual cheerfulness replenished, his smile blinding.
Nodding, Killua tried to return the smile. "Okay," he said.
As Gon kicked sticks off to the edges of the clearing, Killua dug in the packs on the horse's back. Blankets were plentiful, as were biscuits and dried fruits. If they rationed their supplies well, they could survive for a week or longer. Killua withdrew a sheathed hunter's knife and stroked the mare's neck absently. Gon really had thought of everything. The realization made his head ache.
"Killua," Gon said, drawing his attention. Gon stood in the center of the clearing, a bed of dry leaves at his feet. "Help me set this up?"
After briefly touching a finger to his temple, Killua nodded. "Sure thing, Gon."
Killua's inexperience showed clearly. Though he listened carefully and followed Gon's careful instructions, in the end, he stood off to the side, watching as Gon deftly tied sticks together at their ends, wedging them into the frigid ground to anchor them. When they took on the shape of two triangles placed a few feet apart, Gon stepped back, admiring his handiwork.
From the edge of the clearing, Killua watched, leaning up against the mare's side, having bonded inexplicably with the horse in such a short period of time. Killua noted the soil clinging to Gon's arms, the satisfied smile gracing his sweat-dappled lips—how the forest had not dampened Gon's spirit or shaded his charismatic glow.
"Can you get the big cloth from the saddlebag?"
At first, Killua didn't answer. He found himself focusing on the sticks, their sharp edges, the endless shadows cast by the moon which bled into the surrounding forest. He swallowed.
"Killua?"
Blinking, Killua realized that Gon had stepped out of his line of vision, having moved to Killua's side. He was peering at Killua's face at a dangerously close distance, forehead creased with worry. Killua raised his hands and forced a smile.
"I'm fine!"
"I asked you to get the big cloth, Killua," Gon said, pacing himself through the words. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
Blessed with bravado, Killua planted one hand on his hip and ruffled Gon's hair with the other. "I've never been better," he said. "Let's set up camp and get some rest."
"How's your injury?"
Killua reacted by touching the bandage, and when he realized it was dry, he stripped it off, bearing it to Gon. "It's already healed," he said. "It was never that bad."
Gon looked at Killua as if he had witnessed a divine act of magic. "How can you be so healthy when you sneak into the kitchen for sweets all the time?"
"How did you know that?"
"You're really not that discrete, Killua."
"A-anyway, here's the cloth," Killua said, wrenching it from one of the horse's side bags. She hoofed at the ground, displeased by the lack of tact, but resumed chewing what little green grass remained in the clearing.
They assembled the structure in near silence, Gon securing the cloth to the ground with thick iron nails. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Gon allowed himself to exhale fully, glad to be finished.
As they stood at the edge of their campsite, a deep rumbling sounded. Killua looked down at his body in shame, hoping to disguise his embarrassment, but Gon still laughed, patting Killua's cheek in reassurance.
"You're hungry," Gon said. "Me, too." He paused, listening to the noises of the forest. "Help yourself to some of the provisions I packed. Save some for me." At this, he moved past the tiny hut, effortlessly avoiding the fragmented twigs in his path.
"Where are you going?" Killua had meant to disguise the concern in his voice, but his tongue betrayed him. He had taken a single step forward, as if to follow Gon.
Smiling, Gon said, "There's a creek just over the hill there. I can hear it. I just want to wash up. I won't be long."
"But it'll be cold," Killua blurted.
"It'll take a lot more than cold water to get rid of me."
Realizing there was no point in arguing, Killua curled his fingers into fists and stroked the mare. "Hurry back," he said.
The water was colder than Gon had anticipated, but he poured it on his arms and face regardless, scrubbing long after the dirt had washed away.
What was he thinking?
This plan was dangerous, not to mention stupid. If he were to save his own life as well as Killua's, he'd have to find some way to bring him back—and make up a damn good excuse in the meantime.
Framed by the full moon's reflection, Gon's face rippled, the watered image of his worry wrinkling his skin even more. He palmed the smooth stones at the bottom, allowing the gentle creek to flow past his wrists, clear water cresting against his skin.
Killua had been right; they hadn't gone far. Gon had realized his mistake and guided them in circles for some time, mostly while Killua had slept. The phantom feeling of Killua's warm, almost feverish skin seeping through Gon's shirt made him splash more water into his face.
Teeth chattering, Gon closed his eyes and listened, steadying his heart and breathing until they were quiet enough to blend into the sounds of the forest. It was in the forest that he felt most at home; the natural world had accepted him when other humans didn't. Nature had a way of crafting unassuming music, melodies which might not be appreciated by anyone but Gon.
The rustle of leaves as the wind maneuvered through the trees.
Insects chirping, leaping from stem to stem, bending.
Burrowing creature surfacing for air.
A rabbit in the bushes, sniffing.
Water, bubbling down.
A horse, running.
Bats' wings.
A scream.
Gon opened his eyes and leapt to his feet, water still dripping from his cheeks.
Killua.
Gon had said that wolves wouldn't be an issue. Gon had said he wouldn't be tasty.
Killua, on the other hand, was sure to be a fine treat.
As soon as he had heard the first howl, Killua divulged the shortest path to the stablest tree. He'd climbed up a dozen feet before he realized he'd even moved, the throbbing in his head louder than his thunderous heart.
The mare, good and patient, hadn't moved. She raised her head and shook out her mane, marking Killua's location with her brown eyes.
She didn't retreat when the wolf slunk into the clearing, jowls dripping, the whites of its eyes jaundiced. The mare watched the wolf, flicked her tail, and looked back at Killua.
When the wolf leapt for her, snarling, she didn't even whinny.
Its front claws tore into her flank, ripping through the flesh, and she bucked, raising her front legs in defense. The wolf snapped at her throat, narrowly missing, and settled instead for her chest. She snorted, eyes wild, and kicked at the wolf. One hoof connected with a crunch, in the center of its chest, and it faltered, skidding along the ground.
The mare, bleeding and frightened, fled, forgetting about Killua. Her hooves fell heavily on the earth, fading into the night.
Killua, clinging to the branches, couldn't help but tremble. The wolf picked itself up, head low to the ground, and stalked around the clearing.
He hadn't brought his sword. A foolish mistake, and a dire one. Killua closed his eyes to calm himself, but the wolf's paws cracked wood and shifted stones loudly enough for the sounds alone to make his heart palpitate.
Gon. His eyes opened, and he leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. If Gon didn't know about the wolf, he'd return only to be attacked. If Killua made noise to distract the wolf, he might be dead before Gon could return. The options weren't favorable.
As Killua contemplated his fate, the wolf launched itself from the ground, reaching with its forepaws, growling as it scraped against the bark for leverage. When the wolf's teeth glistened only an arm's length away from Killua's position, he couldn't help but cry out.
He wanted to climb higher, to keep climbing and never come down, but his body had grown rigid, as if carved from stone.
From the other side of the clearing, there came a rustling sound, and Killua's heart sank. He shut his eyes, clasped his hands, and prayed—to what or whom he didn't specify.
"Killua!"
The sound of his name sent a wave of something unnameable through him, and he opened his eyes, allowing a few tears to fall. "Gon! Be careful!"
But Gon wasn't listening. Gon drew a knife from a sheath which had been hidden beneath his tunic and dipped into a crouch. The stance was unfamiliar, unhinged, and the light in Gon's eyes seemed to dim. Killua held his breath.
The wolf sniffed at the air and turned on Gon, blood stained teeth dripping with pink foamy saliva. Gon didn't speak, hardly seemed to breathe.
Before the wolf could lunge, Gon darted off into the woods, vanishing into the growth. For a moment, Killua felt his throat constrict, but the wolf soon took off after him, bounding forth and growling.
The silence which fell upon their absence was sickening. Killua had to grip the branches to keep from keeling forward. The longer he waited, the more anxious he grew. He could hardly feel his fingers, and the ache in his chest began to impede on his ability to function. His head felt foggy.
A sharp cry came from the forest, then nothing. Killua couldn't stay still any longer.
He dangled a foot out of the tree, preparing to jump, when a form emerged from the bushes off to his right. When he saw that it was Gon, he nearly fell out of the tree.
"Gon." The name felt alive on his lips. Gon looked up, smiling as usual, and dropped the bloody knife. A smear of blood marred his cheek, but he appeared otherwise as pristine as usual.
"I'll catch you," Gon said, holding out his arms.
Killua wasn't sure why he trusted him, but he didn't pause to think. The moments he hung in the air nearly suffocated him, but surely enough, Gon caught him, kneeling on the soil for support. Safe in Gon's arms, Killua became overwhelmed with emotions and wrapped his arms around Gon's neck, choking back tears.
Gon stroked Killua's hair, wiping away the wolf's blood with the back of his hand. "I told you we'd be fine," he said.
"The horse," Killua muttered. "She ran away."
Rising and bringing Killua with him, Gon nudged his arm gently, teasing. "I thought you didn't like horses."
"I liked Bubbles," Killua said, sniffling. Though he often prized his dignity, the time for false appearances had passed. He was alive. Gon was safe. Those facts alone were enough to ease the pressure which had depressed his lungs all evening.
Gon laughed. "She's probably gon back to the castle," he said.
A flash of fear appeared on Killua's face. "Then they'll know we—"
"We'll go back in the morning," Gon said firmly. Killua's eyes widened. "We'll say we got lost in the woods while on a ride and a wolf attacked our horse. It's not much of a lie, and it'll suffice."
"I can't go back," Killua whispered.
"You never told me why you wanted to run away."
"And you never told me you had combat training."
The words stung more than Gon had anticipated. He dropped his voice. "Don't tell anyone. It's a part of my past that doesn't need explored."
Killua relented, as if he had never even considered revealing the information to anyone. "My father wants me to pick a bride," he said.
That's all? Gon wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Instead, he nodded, tracing circles on Killua's back. "You'll find a way to solve whatever problems you're facing," he said.
Killua couldn't find the words to say. He rested his cheek against Gon's head and sighed. Gon shifted his arm so it wrapped around Killua's waist, supporting most of his weight. His knees has grown weak, his skin pale. Gon pressed a hand to his forehead and marked the signs of a fever.
"Come on," he said, guiding Killua to a nearby tree. "We'll sleep up here, just in case. I'll take the first shift. Up you go."
"You sure?" Killua said.
"I promised to keep you safe," Gon said, climbing after Killua. "I don't intend on breaking my promises."
They nestled in the crook of the tree, high above the ground, and Gon secured them by knotting their belts together in place of rope. Killua seized Gon's arm and closed his eyes. "I don't want to go back," he murmured. "But I'll go back with you."
Gon listened to the steady sound of his breathing, felt the slow beat of his heart as he eased into sleep. He watched the night brighten into dawn, being sure to stay still so as to avoid waking Killua until it was time to leave.
"Killua," he said when the sun glistened in the morning dew. "Good morning." Killua stirred, still clutching Gon's arm. "Wake up, Killua. Let's go home."